Open Sesame or 'The Curse At My Shower'
by Starzangel
Summary: Sheppard's taking a shower again, but...oh dear... Oneshot.


Disclaimer: SGA isn't mine. However, I did write this fic and all of Retyden's fruit & veg mentioned within belong to me!

Set: Season 2, early/middle

Spoilers: Nothing much. Ronon means 'Runner'/'Duet', I suppose.

Author's Note: _For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction_ (Newton's Third Law of Motion) – that's partly what this fic is to my other one, 'Knock, Knock (or The Ode To My Shower)'. However, there is no need to read that one first.

* * *

**Open Sesame **

(or **The Curse At My Shower**)

by

Starzangel

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Lt. Colonel John Sheppard stifled a yawn behind his hand, as he pushed the crystal to lock the door to his quarters. It had been a long day – a _very_ long day. Nine hours of bartering, niceties and finicky customs in hot, stuffy weather on a planet without air conditioning. 

He set his radio earpiece down on his desk and slung his jacket over the back of a chair, then leaned on it to keep his balance while tugging off his boots and socks. Things had been bad enough having to pussyfoot around with the friendly, but exasperatingly pernickety natives. However he'd also had to keep placating Ronon, who had threatened to do some pretty nasty things to McKay, when really he almost felt like doing such things to the scientist himself.

Rodney had been in a truly irritating and wearing mood all day, bored without power readings to track and frustrated with the locals' complicated hand gestures that he just couldn't seem to get. Oh, and then a native had tried to feed him something that resembled a lemon and he'd blown a fuse…or two.

Sheppard sighed, heavily; it had sure been a hell of a long day.

He reached up and pulled his black t-shirt off over his head, dropping it into a heap on the floor. There had been a number of times where he had gotten somewhat out of his depth, where his winning smile didn't win anyone over and his knowledge of the average annual turnover of a field of dricot beans was unfortunately lacking. Those were the points when Teyla had stepped in, easily ironing everything out into something smoother and clearer for everyone.

Removing the rest of his clothing, Sheppard reflected that without Teyla's skills and experience things definitely would have turned out rather differently. Elizabeth sure wouldn't have given them that delighted smile and appreciative praise upon their return.

As it was, he had been able to inform Dr Weir that they had a number of trade agreements all set up that just needed her seal of approval to be put into effect. Elizabeth had eagerly scheduled a debriefing, giving them half an hour to freshen up before giving her all the – precise, thorough and painstakingly arranged – details.

Sheppard wearily rubbed a hand over his face, darkening stubble rough against his palm, and made his way into his en suite. He wasn't sure he wanted to face another discussion about fidgellin long beans and happafruit just yet – in fact, he would quite happily not talk about them _ever_ again – but Elizabeth had been bordering on excited about the prospect.

Just give her a day on Retyden, Sheppard silently grouched. Once she'd pointed at her ear after every noun, discussed what machinery to till the fields with in late summer compared to early spring, and predicted how rainfall might affect inflation, all in eight hours straight, she too would be pulling her hair out and wanting to scream and shout like a petulant child.

Sheppard slid back the shower screen and reached in to turn on the water. The jet of water began to steam and he stepped inside, the hot water pooling over his bare shoulders and down his back. It felt good to get rid of the dried sweat and ease the stiffness caused by sitting at a stressful negotiation table for hours on end. He sighed, blissfully, just enjoying it for a moment.

The water had flattened his dark hair against his forehead. So, he ran a hand through it, making it stick back up and stop dripping droplets into his eyes, allowing him to find the soap.

It was then that things started to go wrong…

The bar of soap slipped out of his hand, falling to the floor and sliding across it. Sheppard crouched down and began chasing it like a slippery fish around the bottom of his shower. He scowled in irritation. This was not what he needed right now.

Suddenly, what felt like hail descended on him. A surprised and pained yelp escaped his lips. He shielded his eyes with an arm, glaring up at the offending showerhead with anger and bewilderment.

The water was ice cold, droplets beating against him like wrathful, menacing, tiny stones, which felt ten-times their actual size.

Shivering, Sheppard reached up and hit the higher of the two temperature-regulating crystals. Nothing happened. He whacked the other one. Again nothing happened.

_Hotter_, he thought, _hotter!_ He found the mental switch without too much difficulty, and flicked it.

Still nothing happened.

"Goddamn it, _hotter_!" he growled, to no avail.

Sheppard gritted his teeth and thumped off the shower, ending the artificial hailstorm. Continuing to shiver, he pushed back the screen and stepped out, grabbed a towel and hastily dried off.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Sheppard walked back into his bedroom and found himself some clean clothes. He quickly dressed, eager to get some heat back into his body. Grabbing his radio off his desk, he hooked it over his ear on his way to the door. His shower was not going to get away with such behaviour – he would have a technician come and look at it right away. He was fond of his _working_ shower.

Sheppard touched the crystal to unlock the door and a mechanism obligingly clicked. He then tapped the opening control. The door didn't move.

Taking a deep breath, drawing on his last reserves of patience, he pushed the crystal again. The door didn't shift in its frame. He repeatedly pressed the crystal in quick succession. Still the door wouldn't budge.

He gave the door a firm, echoing thump with his fist. That didn't help either.

_Open sesame!_ he thought, finding the mental switch. But nope, it didn't work.

Pressing his palms flat against the door, he tried to physically slide it. His hands slid; the door did not.

Sheppard sighed in frustration. He moved away and sat down on the end of his bed. Resting his chin on his left palm, elbow resting on his knee, he contemplated the door from this different perspective. His hazel eyes glazed over with boredom and he yawned openly.

Slapping his hands against his thighs, Sheppard stood up and approached the door once more.

He pressed his lips together into a thin line and gave the door a resounding kick. An action made more out of anger than an attempt to get it open.

The door was not fazed by such mistreatment and stayed put.

After uselessly pushing the crystal one last time, he'd had enough; Sheppard closed his eyes, tipping forward so that his tired, aching forehead rested against the cool metal.

The door chose that moment to slide open.

Staggering forward, out into the corridor, Sheppard's eyes snapped open wide. He regained his footing and whirled around to glare accusingly at the door, which slid innocently closed behind him.

Rolling his shoulders back and regaining his composure, Sheppard strode down the mercifully empty corridor in the direction of the conference room – heading for his fruit and vegetable debriefing. Oh, how fun that was going to be. He suddenly wished he'd vented a bit more frustration out on his troublesome door.

Minutes later, Sheppard slipped into a chair at the conference room table where his teammates and Elizabeth were already seated.

Rodney had brought his laptop and looked content for the first time all day, as he tapped away at the keys and received his physics fix. Next to him, Ronon was relaxed and not giving the scientist murderous glares, also a first for that day. Teyla had a data pad in her hands, ready to give to Weir.

They glanced up at Sheppard as he sat down.

"You're late," Elizabeth chastised.

_Fin._


End file.
